


Zach: Night has a thousand eyes

by amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)



Series: Dark Desires - Mirror!Pinto AU [1]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Mirror Universe, Rough Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-27
Updated: 2010-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach loves being a stripper, loves the attention, loves their eyes on him. Chris hates it, hates that Zach's doing this, hates the way he lets himself be ogled, because Zach is <em>his</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zach: Night has a thousand eyes

**Author's Note:**

> First part of my Mirror!Pinto Series, which is a WIP.  
> Please heed the series warnings.
> 
> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto, this is purely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be an insult or an allusion to their private life.
> 
> Betaed by wolfhaton, thanks bb! All remaining mistakes are mine, especially since English is not my native tongue.  
> Crossposted at my own LJ here http://amerasu1013.livejournal.com/
> 
> Title is taken from John Farrow's movie (1949).

Zach likes being a stripper. He likes being watched, being ogled. He wraps his legs around the pole or twists his body in a seemingly unnatural way, shows of the lithe stretch of his limbs, his tight ass, and bathes in the attention the patrons give him. They watch him like he’s their last meal, the center of their universe, like he’s the Second Coming. And he loves it.

He dances, bathed in bright light, twists his body around the pole; the faces of his admirers are blurred white shapes in the dark, their groans and grunts music in his ears. He smiles a wicked smile, stands with spread legs, bends over backwards until his hands reach the floor above his head. A perfect half-circle, his hard cock inside the tight thong thrust into his audience’s faces. Their moans get louder and Zach loves it, delights in it, accepts their praise as his due. They want to touch, strain forward when he runs a teasing hand along his chest, reach out when he gyrates his hips, gasp when the bouncers shove them back and moan when Zach turns away.

Zach practices new moves, picks out new outfit, develops new shows – the Geisha, the Catholic School Boy, the Snake in the Garden of Eden. They call him Sin, Demon, Incubus, and Zach loves it.

Chris hates it. He hates the way the patrons ogle Zach, caress him with their eyes, look at what is his, what should only be displayed to Chris’ eyes and his eyes alone. He hates how they moan, how they touch themselves, how they get off on it. And he hates that Zach is doing this, hates that Zach loves it, shows himself off to strangers. Chris knows Zach wants the attention; it pleases him to show them what they can never have, loves teasing them with dark looks full of promise and then crushing their hopes when they offer him money. And they offer money, a lot of money – one guy even brought a suitcase full of cash, begging Zach to just let him touch, just once, and Zach laughed in his face, didn’t even answer him and sashayed away.

Chris tried to make Zach stop, bruised him black and blue all over, handprints on slender hips and bite marks on his neck, Zach only smiled and gripped back equally hard, and the bruises on his body made the crowd go crazy the next evening. Chris pierced Zach’s nipples, Zach danced with little silver bells on the rings, the weights on his abused flesh pulling gasps from his mouth with every perverse Yoga move, and the crowd loved it. Chris tied Zach up for two entire days, made him miss his show, and the following night even more people came to his performance. Apparently Zach making himself scarce only increased his appeal.

Chris and Zach fought about it, threw punches, clawed at each other’s faces. Chris held Zach down and fucked him until he bled, but Zach only laughed and wrapped long legs around his waist. Zach whispered in Chris’ ear how much he loves being on display, showing himself, feeling their eyes crawl all over his skin, knowing they want to touch. Loves their adoration, their lust, and most especially he loves that they don’t get to touch him, because he’s not theirs, no, he’s Chris’, he belongs to Chris, to no one else, only Chris, fuck me, fuck me, make me bleed, show me I’m yours.

Chris tattoos his name on the small spot of skin directly above Zach’s ass crack, and holds him down so Zach won’t hump the bed and ruin the lines. The tattoo becomes the new highlight of Zach’s show. After rolling around on the stage like a bitch in heat, he turns his back to the audience, pulls his tight panties down a bit, looks at them over his shoulder while he displays Chris’ name on his body. Their screams pierce Chris’ ears where he stands in the shadows, watching, all of them twisting and moaning, convulsing and soaking their pants. Chris smiles a wicked smile. Maybe he doesn’t hate it quite that much, watching Zach shake his ass for strangers; after all, he knows Zach is his, Zach wears his name on his flesh, will let himself be watched and ogled – but only Chris ever gets to touch him.

Chris makes his way towards the door with “Staff Only” written on it and smirks at Tiny’s “Have fun, kid” when he waves him through. He strides along the hallway towards Zach’s room, fists clenching with need, opens the door and slips inside. Not two minutes later Zach bangs into the room, presses himself against the wall and looks at Chris. Zach’s breathing hard, face flushed and pupils blown, and he licks his lips while his eyes travel along Chris’ body. Zach shifts a little, hard dick straining towards Chris in Zach’s leather thong, and smirks at him.

“So, did you like the show?”

Chris explodes into action, throws himself across the room, grabs Zach and shoves him face first onto the make-up table. Zach goes willingly, laughs at him in the mirror and rubs his ass against Chris’ erection. Chris twists Zach’s arms behind his back, ribs his thong off and uses the leather strands to tie Zach’s hands together. Zach moans loudly, and gasps when Chris fumbles for the handle of the plug peeking out of his hole. Chris curves his body over Zach’s bowed back, presses his dick into Zach’s crack, twists the plug fiercely, pulls it out and shoves it back in. Zach gasps, twists and moves against him. Chris pulls the plug out and throws it away. His come from this morning’s fucking starts to dribble out, Chris scrambles to pull his pants down, grabs Zach’s hands and lines up. He bites at Zach’s neck, chuckles at the shudder this provokes, and shoves into Zach’s hole. Zach arches his back and whimpers, channel clenching violently around Chris’ dick, and Chris laughs and starts fucking him.

“Oh, I think I like this show better.”

Zach’s screams can be heard all the way to the main room.

 

 _Continued in Part 2._


End file.
